


Waiting

by Granger4013



Series: Vocabulary [3]
Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Work stress, stress and fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-07 20:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7727947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Granger4013/pseuds/Granger4013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When one of the Warehouse's most elusive and most dangerous artifacts re-emerges, Myka and Pete are sent out leaving a very anxious and very frustrated Helena at home to wonder and wait to see if Myka ever comes home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lead Up

**Author's Note:**

> I've finally put all these little stories into a series, so this is in the same universe as "Lucky" and "Steam" though you don't necessarily need to read them to read this--there are only a few small hints at the other two. To catch you up, Myka is still an agent, Helena is a Regent, and they have a son, Christopher, who is now 14.

“You _cannot_ possibly be serious! You’re actually saying this to me? Honestly! Are you bloody insane?” Helena’s hands came slamming down on Artie’s desk scattering pens and pencils across the surface, many cascading onto the floor and rolling into corners to be immediately forgotten.

“Agent Wells…” Kosan spoke with an air of finality and just a touch of condescension. 

“ _Regent_ , Adnan,” Helena’s tone was a whisper, a deadly threat gritted out between clenched teeth.

Kosan raised his hands in frustration, turning to Jane Lattimer with a scoff, “ _This_ is why none of this was ever a good idea.” He waved a dismissive hand between Helena and Myka, who was standing as far away from the situation as possible, arms folded, trying to pretend as though this wasn’t happening. Kosan clenched his teeth, annoyance radiating off of him, “ _This_ is precisely why we cannot have conflicts of interest like this.”

Helena’s voice rose, anger vibrating through her words, “ _You_ were the one who made my marriage an issue here. I have shown _time and again_ that I am perfectly capable of remaining objective when it comes to where our agents go and how they operate. I have never once objected to Myka’s assignments. _You_ brought this upon yourself by making it perfectly clear that whatever artifact is in that file is dangerous enough to warrant my being asked to remain in the dark when it comes to _my wife_ going to retrieve it.”

“Hel…” Myka couldn’t stand in the shadows any longer, not when Helena’s tone was reaching a point of no return. She stepped forward and wrapped a placating hand around Helena’s wrist. She could feel the tension in her muscles, could see the way that Helena was putting up the greatest of efforts to keep her palms rigid and flat against the desk, could feel the way she was on the brink of shaking visibly in her anger.

Helena’s eyes flashed with a dangerous glint, her anger immediately flaring and ebbing at the look Myka was giving her, one that was pleading with her to just _go along_ with whatever the rest of the Regents wanted, if even for a few minutes, in order to keep this from devolving into a greater spectacle than it already was. Helena swallowed down a cascade of bitter, vehement words, knowing that Myka was not the deserving recipient of such things. Instead she stood back up from where she had been hunched over Artie’s desk and tucked a hand around Myka’s elbow, pulling them into a corner of the room, shooting a glare at Kosan before whispering, “Myka, I do not like this. If they’re asking me to leave…”

“I know…” Myka closed her eyes, unable to witness the terror that was chasing behind Helena’s eyes. Unconsciously, she twirled her wedding ring around her finger, letting out a deep breath, “You know that artifacts like this, whatever it might be, they have to fall to Pete and I. We’re the senior agents…”

“You could very well be _the only_ agents we have and I still would not be comfortable with this, Myka.”

“We don’t even know what it is yet.”

Helena’s jaw clenched tightly in an effort to keep from shouting, “Do not try to placate me. You can tell me that you think I should leave, but _do not_ try to make me feel better about it, _do not_ downplay how dangerous you know this situation is.”

Myka hung her head, fists balling against her hips, nails digging into the palms of her hands in an effort to keep her own emotion from getting the best of her. She knew Helena was right. If the rest of the Regents felt that this assignment was beyond Helena’s objectivity then that was a problem, a very dangerous, very uncertain problem. Yet, they had made a promise when they got married, when Helena decided to accept this position that they wouldn’t allow their personal life to infringe upon their professional boundaries. It hadn’t always been easy, but they had done it for fifteen years and never run up against anything like this. This was unprecedented, but she didn’t feel capable of telling Helena how worried that made her, there was no reason to add any more concern to what was already an untenable situation. She ran a hand through her curls, dragging them with more force than usual away from her forehead, “I have to hear them out.” Myka heard Helena give a sharp intake of breath as though ready to cut in, but Myka rushed on with her own words in an effort to stall whatever speech Helena was preparing, “ _You know_ I have to listen, Helena. You also know that there’s no way I’m going to be able to listen to what is going on here if I can feel you fuming beside me.”

“You want me to leave,” Helena huffed.

“It’s not a matter of want, and you know that. I just…I think this is what we have to do in this particular situation. Trust me that I can figure out whether or not this is a good idea.”

Helena’s entire posture sank, her muscles loosening into a kind of despair. She ran her hands down her face with a groan, “I will go, but Myka…please…just, just please don’t do anything hasty.”

Myka stepped into Helena’s space, not caring that everyone could see them, not caring what Kosan might think. She ran her hands down Helena’s arms, giving her a teasing smirk, “Since when do I do anything hasty?”

Helena rolled her eyes, “I could answer that, however, for the sake of our _professional boundaries…_ ”

Myka leaned down and left a soft peck against Helena’s frown, “I appreciate that.”

Helena closed her eyes, willing her panic to ebb, willing her mind to not run through worst-case scenarios, willing herself to heed Myka’s words to trust that she had this under control. She glanced down at her watch, “I suppose one of us should go home, Chris will be home soon.”

Myka shook her head, “Soccer until 5:30 remember?”

Remembrance raced across Helena’s face, “Right. _Football_.” That drew a soft puff of a chuckle from Myka, and that was enough to diffuse the situation that had been building between them. Helena gave her a teasing grin, “Regardless, I should go home, because if I stay here…”

“Kosan might not leave without a black eye, and I don’t think any of us need that, despite how sexy I might find the idea of you giving it to him,” Myka grinned, giving Helena a quick wink.

“From placating to flirting. You never quite learned how to play fair did you darling?”

“Not when it comes to you, no.”

Helena sighed, “Loving you as much as I do makes it very hard to remain frustrated with you, did you know that?”

Myka’s teeth chased over the corner of her lip, “I might have had an inkling.”

“Well, as long as we are on the same page. Ok,” Helena glanced over towards Kosan who was watching their conversation intently, seemingly uncaring that she noticed his staring. “I am going to go home, _under protest_ , but still…I will do as they asked. Though if we want to talk about conflicts of interest, Pete’s mother is allowed to stay…”

Myka’s eyes widened, “Don’t pull that string, Hel. You do not want to piss of Jane Lattimer.”

Helena rolled her eyes, “Yes, I know. Alright,” she leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss to Myka’s mouth, “I love you.”

“I love you too. I’ll see you in a bit.”

**

Helena knew everything that she had feared about this assignment was true when Myka walked back into their house an hour later. Myka’s mouth was pulled into a tight, thin line, brow knit it consideration, shoulders tense, but the most telling of all was the utter paleness in her cheeks, the exceedingly rare trace of fear that Helena could see in her eyes. She knew Myka had seen more than most Warehouse agents, knew that she had survived more than her fair share of dangerous snags. Helena had witnessed her in action and knew she was more than capable, had seen her handle the most dangerous of situations with aplomb and a level head. In all of their years of working together, never had she seen Myka look quite like this, and that was all she needed to see to set her hands to trembling. 

Helena leaned back against the kitchen counter, fingers gripping tightly against it’s edge. She found she couldn’t quite meet Myka’s eye, “It’s as bad as I imagined isn’t it?”

Myka leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, her fingers pinching against the bridge of her nose. When she spoke, her voice caught in her throat, “It’s…it’s not good, no.”

Helena steeled her courage to finally look at Myka, to witness Myka saying what she already knew, what she _had known_ from the second Kosan had asked her to leave the meeting, “You’re going though aren’t you?”

Myka could feel every single one of her muscles lurch in an effort to simply suck in a breath, to find a way to make her mouth form words that she did not want to say, “I am.”

Helena’s teeth bit into her cheek in hopes of stalling the tears that she felt building, “I don’t know if I want you to say that they didn’t give you a choice or that they did.”

“There wasn’t much of one.”

Helena scoffed, “Which is why they didn’t want me to stay. They didn’t want me demanding that you be given a choice.”

“Hel…” Myka took a few, hesitant steps towards Helena who remained unmoving, “You know that with this job there is rarely a choice. This is what we have to do to keep people safe.”

“But what about _you_ , Myka?! Who is going to keep _you_ safe?” Helena’s voice cracked around the last word, her tears finally falling.

Myka closed the remaining space between them, wrapping her arms around Helena’s heaving shoulders, knowing that there was no way she was going to be able to stall her own tears in the face of Helena’s. She felt Helena’s fingers come up and cling to her shoulder blades with a desperation that pled for her to stay, to say she didn’t have to do this, to say that there _was_ a choice. She pressed a fervent kiss to Helena’s temple, whispering against her skin, “You know that Pete and I do everything we can to make sure that we are safe, that the other is protected. I’m not going out there alone. We will be careful. I _will_ come home, Helena.”

Helena’s breath caught in her throat as she pulled back from Myka’s hold enough to look her in the eye with a steely, cold seriousness, “You know you cannot make me that promise, Myka. None of us ever can.”

“I know…”

“Can you at least tell me where you’re going? What you’re going after?”

Myka’s eyes skated away from Helena’s, stealing towards the ground, eliciting an incredulous, despairing laugh from Helena, “Of course not. No, why would I expect that you could…”

“I’m sorry.”

“ _You_ have nothing to be sorry for. Kosan however…”

Myka chuckled softly, “I think he’s officially terrified of you. I mean it’s taken awhile, but still…finally… _terrified_.”

“He bloody well should be. He would be wise to avoid me until after you have come home, and even then he should take a wide berth.”

Myka chanced a quick look at the clock on the stove before closing her eyes with a sigh, barely able to whisper out, “I need to pack.”

Helena’s voice retreated into resignation, there was nothing left to fight, everything was decided, the only thing left to do was survive and _wait_ for this disaster to be over, “When do you have to leave?”

“I said I wasn’t leaving until after Chris got home. They were ready to load us on a plane immediately. However, there are some things that I’m not willing to go along with, and not saying goodbye to our son is one of them.”

“He’ll be home soon…”

“I know…”

Helena closed her eyes, biting out, “I hate this. I _abhor_ this. I want that on the record.”

Myka let out a saddened, dampened chuckle, “Duly noted.”

Helena nodded, bringing a hand down to link with Myka’s, giving it a light squeeze as she gave a deflated sigh, “Then let’s get you packed.”

**

It took every ounce of strength Myka had in her to keep her composure when Chris walked in the door, sweat-streaked and exuberant from a day at soccer, only to take in her suitcase by the door and shoot her a quick look, a flash of wonder in his eyes, followed by a relaxed slope of his shoulders, as though all of this was just like normal, another trip, another snag, no problem. He gave her a faint kind of smile, “Where to next, Mom?”

Myka swallowed back the lump in her throat, despising the fact that their son had become so accustomed to this facet of their lives, that he no longer second-guessed the suitcases and the long stretches of only having one parent at home, sometimes with little to no information about where the other was or when they were coming home. She felt Helena press a hand into the small of her back, pushing her forward. She reached a hand out to grip around Chris’ arm, giving him a gentle smile, “Let’s go get you a Gatorade, and we can talk ok?”

A ghost of panic raced across Chris’ face, immediately recognizing the seriousness, the very much _not normal_ of this _should be normal_ situation. His eyes darted to Helena, “Mum?”

Helena forced her features to remain still, to remain calm, knowing that it would do absolutely no good for Chris to recognize her own fear, because then he would _know_ that he needed to be worried. For as much as Chris looked like Myka, his hair a soft, messy tangle of dark brown curls, his eyes a blistering, glittering green, for as much as he had her sense of humor and unbridled optimism, Chris’ emotions, his reactions, they were all Helena’s and because of that he always looked to her to gauge how he was supposed to feel in an unknown situation, she was his touchstone amidst uncertainty. Usually, she allowed herself to be open to him, to let him see when she was angry or at peace, frustrated or calm, but tonight, tonight she could not, would not allow their son to see how absolutely terrified she was. She gave him a small smile, “It’s quite alright, Chris. Just go grab something to drink.”

Chris’ eyes were glazed with worry by the time Myka slid a Gatorade to him across the counter, “Mom, where are you going?”

Myka sucked in a deep breath, for these few minutes, for these few precious minutes, she needed to be strong, “I can’t tell you that.”

“Why?” Chris’ words were sharp, instinctual, a kid not understanding why his parent would need to keep something from him. “You _always_ tell me and Mum where you’re going.” Something like realization dawned on his face, “Wait…Mum at least knows right? You just can’t tell me…”

Myka shook her head, she loved their son, but damn if she did not hate that he had both of their instinctual natures, “Mum doesn’t know either. It’s confidential…”

“That’s absolutely bloody ridiculous.”

Myka couldn’t stop her laughter, though she knew she needed to, but sometimes he was just so very _Helena_. She gave him an incredulous look which ended up more bemused than authoritarian, “Language there mister man…”

Chris at least had the grace to look embarrassed, “Sorry…but Mom…this is kind of starting to freak me out…”

Myka watched as his fingers began to tremble around the bottle in his hands, the way all of his early teenage bravado melted away, revealing nothing more than her little boy who looked absolutely petrified. She walked around the counter to rest her hands against his shoulders. He met her eyes, willing her, begging her to tell him that this would be ok. She smoothed back some of his curls that were still plastered to his forehead, “You don’t need to freak out. Come on, you know your mom, I got this.”

He chuckled, “Please don’t try to do the whole act like you’re cool thing.”

Myka scoffed with mock offense, “Hey! I _am_ cool.”

“Uh huh, Mom, whatever you say.”

Myka sighed, she could still see the nerves behind Chris’ thin veneer of teasing, “It will be ok. _I_ will be ok.”

Chris’ teeth chased over the corner of his lip in perfect imitation of Myka, “Mum seems really worried.”

Myka shrugged with a smirk, “Your Mum _always_ worries.”

“That’s true…” Chris paused before asking quietly, “Is Uncle Pete going with you?”

Myka’s muscles tightened, her tone hovering between reassuring and serious, knowing how deeply Chris needed her to be honest with him, “He is. We’ll be together the whole time.”

“And you’ll be careful?”

“We always are, Chris. I have to be,” she gave him a teasing smile, “otherwise who would feed you and Mum?”

Chris let out a small kind of snort, “Don’t let her hear you say that, she’ll be pissed.”

Myka rolled her eyes, “God, you have your mother’s mouth…”

“Hey…I got _that one_ from you.”

Myka sighed and pulled Chris to her, squeezing him tightly around his shoulders, “I love you, like crazy, crazy love you.” 

Chris didn’t shy away from Myka’s hold, seeming to recogne the immensity of the moment, seeming to _know_ that he needed to hang on to these few precious moments. Eventually he responded, though his voice was quiet, it was certain, “I love you too, Mom.”

Myka had to force herself to let him go, but not before running a hand through his curls, her voice catching in her throat thickly, “My sweet boy…”

**

Helena was slouched against the front door when Chris and Myka returned from the kitchen. She stood up a bit when Chris approached her with a goofy smile, grabbing his bag from where he had dropped it by the door, “Can we order pizza tonight?”

Helena rolled her eyes, glancing at Myka over his shoulder, “Already avoiding my cooking…”

Chris smirked, looking back at Myka as he moved up the stairs, “ _Mom_ put me up to it.”

“Hey!” Myka shouted, “Traitor!”

Chris’ laughter echoed down the stairs, “Be careful, Mom!”

Myka palmed the back of her neck, rubbing absent-mindedly, looking at Helena through half-lidded eyes, “That boy…”

Helena’s laughter was ghostly, distant, might as well have been non-existent, “He is your son, through and through.”

“ _Yeah…right_ …you should have heard the words coming out of his mouth in there. He knows more British swear words than American.”

Helena slouched back against the door, eyes straying up the stairs where music was already thrumming through Chris’ walls, “He knows I’m worried.”

Myka nodded sadly, “He does. He’s worried too.”

Helena let out a strangled groan, her nails raking through her hair, “You don’t have to go.”

“Helena…” Myka stepped towards her, reaching a hand out to tangle with hers, “You know I have to.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“No, but,” Myka placed her entire body flush up against Helena’s, “it does mean you need to kiss me before I go.”

Helena raised an eyebrow, “And if I refuse? What if I refuse and simply don’t allow you to leave?”

“Then Kosan will come and drag my ass out of here and I highly doubt either of us would like that scenario.”

Helena sighed, opened her mouth to come up with some sort of response, but closed it quickly, instead opting to pull Myka closer to her by the hips, swallowing the gasp Myka let out at the sudden movement. Helena’s fingers flexed forcefully around Myka’s hips as Myka’s hands rose to tangle in her hair. What started as desperation, a messy tangle of lips and teeth and lost breath, soon settled into something almost mournful, slow in its intent, less of a kiss and more of a memorization of each subtle movement. Myka only pulled away when she felt salt hit her lips, drawing back to thumb away the tears that were tracking down Helena’s cheeks, “I’ll be home before you know it.”

“You better be, otherwise I will apparently end up starving our son.”

Myka chuckled, resting her forehead against Helena’s, “I love you.” Myka’s fingers skated around the ring on Helena’s right ring finger, tracing her finger around the infinity symbol engulfing their birthstones, “I love you to infinity.”

Something akin to a sob raked through Helena’s chest before she forced herself to take a deep breath, gripping onto Myka’s hand, “And I love you, darling…forever.”

Myka let out a shaky sigh, “I have to go.”

“I know…” Helena tilted her head and placed a lighter, much less fevered kiss to Myka’s lips. She forced herself to let go, to let Myka pick up her bag and open the door, but before she walked out, Helena reached out and gripped her wrist, giving her a pleading look, “ _Please_ be careful, Myka.”

Myka gave her a small nod, an assured, confident smile, “I promise you, I will.”

**

Helena couldn’t bring herself to watch Myka drive away, instead opting to extract her cell phone from the living room to make a call to their local pizza place, ordering dinner for herself and Chris. The emptiness, the quiet of the house fell around her like a weight, like some inescapable curse that had no end in sight. Without Myka there, without her light, her energy, her joy, the house felt irrevocably different instantly. Helena knew that her worry, her frustration would pull at the subtle echoes of darkness that still ran in her veins despite the years, the decades that had passed since Myka had came into her life and changed everything. She drew in a slow, steady breath, letting it out in an even, measured exhale. The pulse of Chris’ music snaked into her ears, her heart speeding up to match its beat. She couldn’t stop her smile, at least they had each other, for however long Myka was gone. They weren’t alone. _She_ wasn’t alone.

She took the stairs two at a time, willing her body to focus on anything, everything other than Myka’s absence. She knocked on Chris’ door loud enough to drown out the music, “Chris!”

The door swung open quickly, “What’s up, Mum?”

Helena smiled to herself, Myka was right, he was an uncanny, perfect mix of the two of them. She leaned against the doorframe, “The pizza will be here in a half hour.”

Chris gave a slow nod, his sock-clad foot kicking against the floor, his eyes unwilling to meet Helena’s, “So, Mom left?”

Helena ground her teeth, feeling her muscles clench, though her voice betrayed nothing of her tension, only her sadness, “She did.”

Chris’ eyes rose to meet Helena’s, his gaze filled with uncertainty and fear, “You really don’t know where she’s going?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Mum…” Chris’ voice broke slightly, “I’m scared.”

Helena saw tears fall down his cheeks as she pulled him into her hold, fingers coming up to stroke through his curls, “I know my darling boy…I am too.”

Chris’ chest shook as he tried to breathe, “What do we do now?”

Helena lifted his head from her shoulder, thumbing away his tears just as Myka had done to her mere minutes ago. She gave him what she hoped was a confident, hopeful smile, “Now? Now we eat pizza and…we wait.”


	2. The Interminable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is there to do, but wait out the silence?

It took three days for Helena to figure it out. Three days of paying acute attention to the tiny details behind Myka’s head when she called, of listening to the accents of people around her, of picking up on time and seasonal shifts, of nagging Claudia ad nauseum to give her any sort of hint as to what Pete and Myka had been sent off to do, of researching in the Warehouse archives, of listening in on the conversations Artie thought she was too out of earshot to hear, though that part she would never admit to. Three days to discover that she was absolutely justified in her complete and total panic about Myka being the one out on this assignment.

That night when Myka called it took all of Helena’s strength to not simply demand that she come home within the first five seconds of conversation. By sheer force of will, and the extremely helpful presence of Chris, Helena was able to keep those thoughts, those words at bay until _after_ Myka had talked to Chris, until _after_ he had gone upstairs to bed, until _after_ they had checked in with each other, made sure they were both in one piece, made sure that they were each ok. There was the typical back and forth of making sure that things with Chris were as good as he claimed when he was on the call; Myka checking to see if there were details about his classes, his homework, his soccer game that he didn’t reveal, but that Helena could fill her in on. Everything felt fine, felt _normal_ until the inevitable lapse in conversation, until there was simply nothing else to do but for Helena to _ask_ …

“So any progress with the artifact?”

Myka’s eyes stole away from the Farnsworth screen, teeth immediately pulling a steady rhythm against the corner of her lip, “Not particularly…we keep getting leads that just seem to then vanish out of thin air…but Hel…” Myka’s voice caught and once again her eyes stole away from Helena’s intent stare, “You know I can’t say much…”

Helena attempted to swallow down her frustrated groan but was only half successful; her fear, her anxiety, her anger getting the best of her, “I know it’s the Romanov daggers, Myka!”

Shock, confusion, and resignation flew across Myka’s face, the heave of her chest that was her breath leaving her was clearly visible through the screen. Her nails raked through her hair, “I realize that it shouldn’t surprise me that you figured it out…I think part of me expected you would.”

“Of course I would...Myka, do you have any idea what it’s like knowing you’re out there tracking down an artifact that has killed or severely harmed more agents than any other?”

Myka seemed to be repressing the urge to roll her eyes, “ _Yes_ , I do know what it feels like. _You know_ that I know what it feels like. Helena, how many times have you been sent out on some sort of top secret Regent business and I’m not allowed to know a thing? I know _exactly_ what this feels like.”

Helena passed a hand down her face before pinching at the bridge of her nose with a sigh, “I know…Myka…I’m sorry…I just…”

“You don’t like this…”

“No…I don’t. Myka, this artifact…it has done nothing but leave a string of agents in its wake, even when it has been in the hands of the most incompetent of fools. It fills people with doubt and paranoia, no longer able to distinguish between a threat and a mirage. It kills people, Myka, and I cannot handle the thought of you out there going after it. Going after someone who is no longer in control of any of their decisions and actions.” Helena practically choked on the last few words, but she was powerless to hold down the emotion that had risen in her throat, the pang that echoed through her chest at the helpless look on Myka’s face.

“I wish…I wish there was something I could say to you, something that could make any of that not true, but I can’t. Helena…all I can tell you is that I promise you, we are being as careful and as precautious as possible, and honestly, I’m not sure how many more chances the Regents are going to give us with this. It feels like the daggers are on the brink of disappearing again and we haven’t even gotten an eye on them once.”

“Let it fall through the cracks then,” Helena said with a small smirk begging for purchase on her lips despite that fact that it fell flat, too weighed down by how serious she actually was about the suggestion.

Myka chuckled, a wisp of a thing, a tiny lifting of the pressure around them, “Have you ever known me to let something fall through the cracks?”

“No…” Helena was definitive, a swift, quick answer of assertion, before her face once again fell, powerless in the face of reality, “That’s precisely what scares me, Myka. You, you and Pete both honestly, never back down from a fight, even if said fight is ill-advised.”

“And here I thought you loved me for my feisty _diligence_.”

Helena rolled her eyes, “You’re attempting to distract me with your wiles…”

“Is it working?”

“Not as well as it usually does, if anything it’s making me want you home more than I already do, which doesn’t really help your cause much, love.”

Myka scraped her knuckles across her forehead, feeling it knit in some roiling concoction of frustration and anxiety, “I know…I’m...I’m just trying to diffuse the situation, because I don’t know what to say. I wish I could tell you that we will run from this, that we won’t push as hard as possible to get it, but you would know that it was a lie. We have to try, Helena…you know we do.”

Helena sucked in a jagged breath, “Yes, indeed, I know you do.”

**

They didn’t hear at all from Myka the next day, and while Helena attempted to keep herself from panicking, knowing full well that some days were like that, knowing that there had been days when she hadn’t been able to check in on missions, she found herself quite helpless in the face of Chris’ apparently quick-growing sense of worry. He was sprawled on the floor in front of the fire working on homework while Helena caught up on paperwork, when suddenly he turned to look at her, looking so very much like her little boy and not like the teenager he was, concern and unease settled into his eyes, his eyes which looked so much like Myka’s, “So, you really haven’t heard anything from Mom today?”

Helena forced herself to keep her composure calm, relaxed, _sure_ , “No, but you know that it’s like this sometimes. It’s nothing to worry about, Biscuit, I promise.”

“What about Aunt Claudia? Has she heard anything?”

If there was anything that made it crystal clear to Helena just how deep Chris’ worry ran, it was his complete lack of reaction to his nickname, one that he had become less and less thrilled with as he got older, though that hadn’t deterred Helena one whit from using it liberally. She slipped off of the couch, easing herself onto her stomach to lay next to him, eyeing his science homework casually and pointing a finger at one of the problems, a silent indication that he needed to recheck his work. Chris returned his attention to his papers while Helena kept up a steady stare straight ahead, allowing her words to fill the space between them, “As far as I know, no one has heard anything today, but that doesn’t mean anything. It could just be that the time difference made calling difficult today or that something came up that they had to take care of. It is not a cause for worry.”

“If Uncle Steve had heard that, he’d tell me you were lying, Mum.”

Helena chuckled softly, “Ouch.” A small sigh escaped her lungs as she wrapped a hand around Chris’ wrist, stilling his writing, “I am not lying… _entirely_. I do believe that there is no reason to worry right this second about the fact that Mom hasn’t called. I do believe that there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for that fact, Chris.” She lifted her hand from his wrist to run through his curls, hating that he still wouldn’t look her in the eye, hating that she could see how worried he was in the way his head was hung, in the uneven jag of his breathing. His worry tells were the exact same as Myka’s and she could see them from a mile away. She sighed and leaned over, leaving a kiss against his temple, “Why don’t you call it a night?”

Chris sighed, “Mum…my homework…”

“Is it due tomorrow?”

“No…I’m just working ahead so I don’t have much to do this weekend.”

Helena chuckled, “My diligent boy…so very like your Mom. I think you can afford to take a break…for tonight…”

Chris finally met her eyes, gratitude that Helena was sure he wouldn’t say out loud shining out of his gaze, “You’re probably right.” He closed his books, standing up and brushing dust from his jeans, “I think I’m going to go to bed.”

“A very good idea for both of us I think.”

Chris moved towards the stairs as Helena extracted herself from the floor, arching her back, letting her muscles stretch. Before she could turn back to the couch, Chris was back in front of her, “Mum…”

“Yes, Biscuit?”

“You’ll…you’ll wake me up if Mom calls right?”

Helena closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath against the swell of emotion that was rising in her chest, that was nestling in her gut making her feel like she would like nothing more than to sink through the floor, disappear, anything to not have to see her precious boy so concerned. She pulled him into a tight hug, “I promise I will wake you up.”

Chris held onto her tightly, whispering against her shoulder, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Get some sleep my dear boy.”

As Chris pulled away, Helena felt a tiny kiss left against her cheek, a small voice, not the voice of her teenager sigh out, “I love you, Mum.”

Helena willed herself not to cry, to hold this in for a few more seconds, “I love you too.”

**

Another day, another interminable day of _waiting_ , with absolutely no word from Myka. Helena was silently thankful that Chris had called after school asking if he could go a friend’s house for most of the evening, because at least he would be distracted _and_ he wouldn’t be home to see her pacing the house, doing anything to still her thoughts, tamp down the worry that was roiling through her bloodstream. He wasn’t home to see her check her Farnsworth, check her phone over and over again. He wasn’t home to see her leave for the Warehouse where she scoured the computer for hours in the vain hope that she would find something, _anything_ that might help. He wasn’t home to hear her let out a scream of frustration because everything was just _too much_. 

This was no longer normal. Myka was always extremely _conscientious_ about checking in, even if only for a few scant seconds, even if only to say hi to Chris and tell Helena she loved her, even if only to say _she was ok_. Helena could feel it in her bones…something was wrong…something was most definitely on the brink of being very, very wrong. She could see it in the strain and furrow of Artie’s brows as he was hunched over the computer when she left the Warehouse, in the way that Claudia caught her in an unexpected hug as she went out the door. She could feel it in the air…something was coming.

Chris came home at 10:30, sweaty and exhausted from too many hours out in the heat with his friends. He tossed his backpack by the door, offering Helena a quick wave, “I _so_ need a shower.”

Helena laughed, giving him a teasing, disgusted look, “You _look_ like you need a shower.”

Chris gave her a wide grin, his feet already on the stairs, before he turned, shooting her a quick look over his shoulder, the question leaving his mouth almost involuntarily, “Any word from Mom?”

Helena shook her head, knowing her voice was no longer capable of hiding her concern, “No, Biscuit.”

“Oh,” Helena could see his hand clench around the railing, before he mustered up the strength, the courage to steel his shoulders and give her an encouraging smile, “I’m sure she’s ok. You know, Mom…”

“I know, I’m sure everything is perfectly fine.”

Chris gave her one more smile, though it was hesitant, before he tracked up the stairs, both of them acutely aware that they were doing an extremely poor job of lying.

**

Helena forced herself to go to bed a little after midnight, checking in on Chris, only to find him completely passed out on top of his comforter. She laughed softly, knowing he would be out until well into the morning hours. She had no intention of disturbing him, he could sleep as much as he wanted, it was the weekend after all, though Helena wasn’t quite sure how she was even capable of keeping track of her days at this point.

When she entered their bedroom, it felt hollow, an empty, gaping hole that did nothing but scream Myka’s absence. Helena idly threw on pajamas, an over-sized shirt of Myka’s, which Helena knew was slightly pathetic to wear, but she was long since past the point of caring how her actions looked. It didn’t matter. She would do whatever she could to calm the rising tide of panic in her mind, even if that meant surrounding herself with Myka in as many ways as she was capable of at the moment. She even went so far as to sleep on Myka’s side of the bed, anything to make Myka feel closer, anything to make Helena feel safer.

An idle corner of her mind wondered if she would be able to sleep, but after only a few stray pages of her book, her eyelids were drooping and she blissfully, willingly, _gladly_ gave into sleep’s comforting hold, knowing that for a few scant hours she might be free from this panic, this worry, this waiting.

Sleep was only her companion for the briefest of hours until she jolted awake, immediately aware, immediately seized with dread and relief in equal measure as her Farnsworth idly blared from the nightstand. She fumbled with the clasp until finally wrenching it open with a grunt of frustration, only to come face to face with Myka…finally.

“Darling!” Helena let out an exhausted sigh, tears immediately welling in her eyes, “Myka…bloody hell, we have been so worried. Are you ok? Is everything fine?” Helena poured out questions in a vain attempt to stall Myka from getting a word in edgewise. She could see it in Myka’s eyes, nothing was ok, nothing was fine. Eventually, she ran out of things to say, things to ask, knowing she had to let Myka talk.

Myka’s fingers combed through her curls, exhaustion evident on every inch of her. Even with the black and white, slightly fuzzy image of the Farnsworth screen, Helena could see the bags beneath her eyes, the tension in her jaw, the lines of her forehead knit together in dismay. She heaved out a weak sort of sigh, “I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to call. Things have been…things have been rough, Hel.”

Helena’s heart was thudding relentlessly against her chest, sure that she was not capable of hearing just what exactly “rough” meant, “Are you any closer to finding the artifact?”

Myka closed her eyes. Helena watched her suck in a deep breath, watched her set her shoulders, seeming to _prepare herself_ , “We’re going out right now. We’re close. The closest we’ve ever been. If we’re going to get it, it’ll be tonight, but Hel…”

“Just say it, Myka, _please_ , whatever it is, please just say it.”

“Something doesn’t feel right. Pete’s been getting vibes all day, and, well, as much as I like to tease him about those, you know they’re usually right.”

“Then don’t go,” Helena’s response was immediate and brooked no argument. This was no longer about the artifact, about their jobs, about the Warehouse. She wasn’t a Regent talking to an agent, she was a woman talking to her wife, her wife who looked absolutely petrified about what she was going out to do.

“Hel…God…Helena you know that’s not an option,” Myka’s voice was laced with despair.

“It _should_ be an option! Myka…” Helena’s words died in her throat, unable to speak the unthinkable, the inconceivable.

“I know. Helena…that’s…that’s why I’m calling. I can’t…” Myka cleared her throat roughly and Helena could see the tears rimming her eyes. Myka gave a slight shake of her shoulders, her curls bouncing with the movement, which Helena usually found endearing, but for the moment could barely bring herself to notice, to even think about. There was another sigh, another tug of fingers through hair, before Myka’s eyes bored into Helena’s, “I can’t go out there unless I know that _you know_. I couldn’t go out there unless I had talked to you, unless I had _told_ you…unless I knew without question that you know everything that we’ve always had time to say, but rarely have actually said because there’s always been _time_.”

Helena felt tears rolling down her cheeks, but couldn’t muster the effort to swipe them away, “Myka…don’t do this…”

“ _I have to_. Helena…loving you, being loved by you is the greatest thing I have ever done and the greatest thing I have ever experienced. You…you and Chris…are my everything, which for someone like me…it was something I never imagined possible. You have shown me, given me, a world, a _life_ that I never knew I could have…”

Helena couldn’t stop herself from cutting in with one last vain effort, “Please don’t talk like this, love… _please_. You are going to be fine.”

“I know… _I know_ …but just in case…I need to know before I go out there that I have said these things to you. I need to know that I have told you, that you are fully and completely aware of just how damn much I love you. How insanely, crazy in love with you I am.” 

Helena forced herself to take in a shaky breath, knowing she needed to ask the next question and hating that her mind was going to worse-case scenarios that required such questions, “Myka, do you want me to wake Chris up so you can talk to him?”

Myka’s eyes dropped closed, her teeth chasing over her lip as her tears started to fall in earnest, “No…no, I can’t…I don’t want to put this on him, he doesn’t need to see me like this. Just…just tell him I love him and give him a kiss for me.” There was a muffled noise in the background which drew Myka’s attention away from the screen briefly. When she turned back, regret and fear were hanging around her in equal measure, “Pete’s calling me…I need to go.”

“Wait!” Helena couldn’t contain her shout which drew Myka’s attention immediately and fully back to the screen. Helena mustered as much of a smile as she could, “Darling, if you needed me to know, then I cannot let you go out there without hearing the same thing.” Helena willed herself to find the words. They’d talked about this, knew they needed to have a plan in the event of _those kinds_ of missions, but Helena had never imagined she’d actually need to say the words she had thought through over and over, “Myka, without you, my existence would have been a void, a pitiful, angry nothing. I would have been a shell, filled with only hate and pain. You, and you alone, my darling, gave me my life back. You are the greatest thing this century has given me, you and Christopher are the only kind of endless wonder I need or want. I love you…well…I love you more than even my writer’s brain can come up with ways to tell you.”

Helena watched as Myka ran palms over her cheeks to fight off her tears, “God…I can’t believe I have to go. I…dammit…Helena, I love you.”

“I love you too, so very, very much, my Myka. Please, _please_ be careful. Come home safely.”

“I will do everything in my power to do just that.” 

There was one, small beat, one moment, a scant second where they just looked at each other, knowing there was nothing else to say, that _if_ there was anything else, Myka would never hang up. Helena gave her as much of an assured smile as she could, a small nod, whispering out, “Go, love. It’s ok.”

Myka swallowed visibly, but didn’t say anything else, just nodded her head with one last drawn out look at Helena, as though she was trying to memorize, to _remember_ every inch of her, before the screen went blank. With that one last look, Myka finally disconnected the call.

**

24 hours. No phone calls. No updates. Nothing. Artie knew nothing. Claudia knew nothing. The rest of the Regents weren’t returning any of their phone calls, no matter how many times they tried. The Warehouse was a ringing, echoing void of _silence_.

Helena had told Christopher when he woke up that Myka had called, had told him that she didn’t want to wake him, but that she loved him. He had read through Helena’s front in a heartbeat, but rather than saying anything, he had stood up from the kitchen table and left the house, walked straight out the door without a word. Helena watched him go, watched the steps she knew he’d inevitably take around the house to the backyard, watched him through the kitchen window head straight for the trail through the woods, Myka’s running trail, where he always went when he needed time to think, to process. She wouldn’t take that away from him. How could she when she hadn’t been able to process any of this herself?

At 36 hours, they’d started talking about sending Claudia and Steve out to search, to track down any possible lead. Artie had said, with more emotion than Helena had ever seen him express, that if it went more than two days, they’d take that step. For now…they would continue to wait, because radio silence _didn’t_ necessarily mean _silence_. It might mean any number of things besides _that_.

At 48 hours, Helena holed up in the house, unable to pace the Warehouse any longer. She watched as Chris distracted himself with his computer, with his games, with anything. She had called his teachers and said she was keeping him home for a few days due to a family emergency. Part of it was proper diligence, knowing he wouldn’t be able to focus if he was there, the other part was pure selfishness, wanting nothing more than to keep him close, to keep him _safe_. Eventually, as the hours ticked by, as darkness descended through the house, Chris sat down next to her on the couch, wrapped an arm around her wrist and gave her a heart-breaking smile, “Mum…you need to sleep.”

Helena’s chuckle was half-hearted, “I thought I was supposed to be the parent here?”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t tell you that I can tell you’re exhausted. You should go lay down…”

Helena sighed, she didn’t even have the energy to put up a fight, a fight with her fourteen year old son. She patted his hand, “You are most likely quite correct on that. You’ll be ok down here?”

Chris rolled his eyes, “I’ll be fine, Mum. I’m just going to wrap up this one part of my game and then I’ll probably head up too.”

Helena pushed his curls back from his forehead, placing a gentle kiss against it, “Good night my sweet boy.”

“G’night Mum. Get some sleep…”

**

One part of his game, led to _three more parts_ of his game, but Chris wasn’t tired enough to even think about going to his room, going into the empty darkness that would allow him to think about the fact that he was _terrified_. So, he adjusted his headphones, unwilling to keep his speakers on in case Mum _had_ actually fallen asleep, and he proceeded to start another quest just to keep his mind occupied.

His headphones prevented him from hearing the twist of a key in the lock. His sprawled out position on the floor with his back to the entryway to the house prevented him from seeing the owner of that key. Yet nothing…nothing…could prevent him from noticing the nudge to his foot, the hand that immediately came to rest on the small of his back as he tugged his headphones out of his ears and turned quickly to see who was trying to get his attention. 

He didn’t care that he was fourteen years old, he didn’t care that he wanted to be cool, he didn’t care that in other circumstances he might have been embarrassed, because all he could do when coming face to face with his Mom was immediately start crying, sitting up as quickly as possible to wrap tight arms around her neck.

One of Myka’s hands ran down the back of his head over and over as the other held him tight to her, “Oh Chris…”

“I didn’t think you were coming home,” they were small, muffled gasps against Myka’s shoulder, but she caught every syllable.

Myka couldn’t stop her own tears, “I know…I am so sorry. I am so, so, so sorry. But I _am_ home, I am safe, and I am _here_.”

Chris squeezed her tightly, drawing an involuntary hiss from her throat. Chris pulled back with a look of panic, “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just…have a couple of cracked ribs, nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

Chris pulled back further to fully take her in, seeing the purple bruise on her cheek, the scrapes that ran all along her left arm and wrist. He gave her a tiny, impish smile, “You look awful, Mom.”

The laughter hurt more than she’d admit, but Myka couldn’t stop it, “Gee, thanks bud.”

“No problem.”

Myka pulled him in for one more hug, before whispering, “Where’s Mum?”

“Upstairs. I sent her to bed.”

Myka shook her head as more laughter raked through her lungs, “Of course you did.”

“She hasn’t been sleeping much…”

Myka sighed softly, “That doesn’t surprise me. What about you, dude? Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

Chris smirked slightly, “Yeah…umm…Mum will explain that, but I was just finishing up a few things with my game.”

Myka nodded, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “I’m going to go upstairs. _Not too much longer_ , ok? ”

“Sure, Mom.”

Myka gave him one, long, lingering look, words escaping her for how thankful she was to see him. She gave him a small smile, “I love you, Chris.”

A few tears strayed down Chris’ cheeks, “I love you too, Mom.” 

Myka moved towards the stairs, trying her best to keep herself from limping, from betraying how much pain she was actually in. Before she reached the foot of the stairs, Chris’ voice called her back, “Mom?”

She turned back, “What’s up, bud?”

Chris grinned, “That bruise? Totally badass..”

Myka rolled her eyes with a groan, “ _Thanks_ , but seriously…”

“I know…I know… _language_.”

**

Myka cracked the door to their bedroom as quietly as possible, tiptoed her way across the floorboards, and set her bag silently down at the foot of the bed, unwilling to wake Helena, who was blissfully asleep, in any way that might cause alarm. She sighed with a mixture of sadness and contentment to see that Helena was curled up on her side of the bed, Helena’s head completely nestled into her pillows, as though she had fallen asleep breathing them in. The light from the closet filtered across the floor allowing Myka to maneuver without trouble. It was one of the few remaining things that lingered from Helena’s time in the bronze. Total darkness still had a tendency to inspire panic and so they slept with some modicum of light, anything to make sure she was at ease.

Knowing what the last few days had to have been like, the last thing Myka wanted to do was startle Helena, to bring her out of sleep with anything less than quiet relief. She knelt down next to the bed, ignoring the twinge in her back at the movement, and carefully, slowly carded her fingers through Helena’s hair, pushing it back from her forehead. Helena barely moved, the gesture wasn’t even a blip on the radar of her dreams apparently, so Myka leaned in closer, brushing a kiss to her forehead, whispering, “Helena…Hel…”

Her voice was enough to cause a fluttering of Helena’s eyelids, the barest hint that she was starting to become aware of a shift in the room. She stirred slightly and Myka pushed her fingers through Helena’s hair with a little bit more intention, whispering once again, “Helena, open your eyes.”

“Myka?” The word came out as a raspy, sleep-soaked, disbelieving question. Helena’s eyes cracked open with uncertainty, as though she couldn’t possibly bring herself to believe that she was hearing, _feeling_ any of this properly. 

Myka gave her a soft smile and said, “Watch your eyes,” before she flicked on the bedside lamp, dousing their room in a faint, but assured glow, which Myka hoped would prove to Helena that she wasn’t dreaming.

Helena immediately propped herself up on an elbow, eyes wide with desperate wonder, “You’re here?”

“I am. I am _really_ here. I’m home.”

The effect was immediate. Helena surged forward, half of her body practically sliding off of the mattress in order to loop an arm around Myka’s neck and pull her into a crushing hug, as though words could not possibly be enough assurance, as though Helena had to physically _feel_ Myka at her fingertips to even come close to believing that she was there. Myka held her as tightly as she could, ignoring every sear of pain racing through her muscles, for these few minutes she would fight through it, knew she had to, for both of their sakes. 

Myka only unwound herself from Helena’s arms once she felt a dampness against the skin of her neck. It was only Helena’s tears that could convince her to let go, if even for a few moments. Myka thumbed away the tears that were cascading down Helena’s cheeks, speaking before Helena had the chance, “I am so sorry. I am so sorry that I couldn’t call. Our Farnsworth’s were both completely destroyed, and when we had to get out, we had to get out. Our cell phones were dead and everything happened in such a blur. We had to just grab our stuff from the hotel and get to an airport. We had no choice. Helena, I _wanted_ to call. I _tried_. I promise you I tried.”

“Oh darling…” Helena’s voice was a gasp, a breathy echo of herself, “at the moment I could not possibly care less. _Later_ , I will care. _Later_ , I will have plenty of _words_ for this entire situation, but for now…for now I only care that you’re here.”

Myka couldn’t hold back her smile or her own tears, finally finding herself able to pull Helena back towards her, catching her lips unsuspectingly. It was a chaotic fumble in those initial first moments, a tangle of wet lips and sighs of relief, a shifting of Myka’s knees against their hardwood floors, an awkward angle of Helena’s body still half in, half out of bed. Eventually, Myka managed to stand, to adjust without breaking the kiss, easing herself up to sit on the edge of the bed, urging Helena to sit up, to follow her into a more comfortable position so that they didn’t have to separate just yet, _not yet_.

The only thing that was capable of causing that inevitable break was Helena’s fingertips applying the barest amount of pressure to Myka’s ribs, eliciting a sharp wince, a kneejerk pulling back of muscles. Helena jumped at the sound, at the movement, “Myka?”

Myka sighed, “Sorry, I’m…Ok, I’m not even going to say I’m fine because you’ll know I’m lying.”

Helena rolled her eyes, “You’re damn quite correct on that.” Helena finally allowed herself to fully take in the _reality_ of Myka in front of her, the bruises, the scrapes. She sighed in resignation, “How bad is it?”

Myka didn’t even resist the question, just raised her shirt to reveal the haphazard wrapping around her ribs that did little to hide the deep-set bruises underneath. 

Helena ran her fingers lightly over the heavy wrapping, “Broken?”

“I think just fractured.”

“Do I even want to know?”

Myka gave a self-deprecating laugh, “Body meet building.”

“And these?” Helena ran her hands carefully over the cuts along Myka’s arm.

“He got in a few good swipes at me before we snagged the daggers.”

Helena’s forehead knit in concern, “Were there any adverse effects?”

“Thankfully, we didn’t have time to find out. Pete had snuck behind him and ended up knocking him out while he was going at me. Pete neutralized the daggers immediately and if there were side effects, they were gone the second those things hit the goo.”

“So snagged, bagged, and tagged, as it were?” Helena smirked.

“Snagged and bagged at least, I have no idea about the tagged. Pete took them to the Warehouse. I demanded he drop me off here.”

Helena took in a jagged, once again watery breath, “We were so worried…”

“I know,” Myka ran a hand through Helena’s sleep-twisted hair, though it still allowed her fingers to float gracefully through it, “I cannot tell you how awful it was knowing how worried you would be and that I had no way to get in touch with you. It was one absolutely catastrophic communications disaster.”

“And one you can explain further in the morning, for now, I want you in this bed, because you look like you need about two days worth of sleep.”

Myka rolled her eyes, “That’s a bit more polite than Chris telling me I looked awful.”

Helena arched an eyebrow, “He’s still awake?”

Myka nodded, “Downstairs gaming away. I told him not to be too much longer. Although…why on earth is he up this late on a school night anyway?”

Helena’s eyes darted away from Myka, almost embarrassed at the truth, “I called in and told the school he’d be home tomorrow. I pled family emergency, which I _do_ feel this qualifies. I just…I wanted him home, plus I knew he wouldn’t focus…”

Myka’s lips quirked in a quick smile, “Sounds justified to me.”

“I rather thought so myself.”

Myka leaned in and left a quicker, more chaste kiss to Helena’s lips, “So…are you willing to give me back my side of the bed?”

Helena chuckled, immediately sliding back over to her proper place, “Absolutely.”

Myka forewent truly _getting ready_ for bed, instead opting to throw on a t-shirt and get under the covers as quickly as possible. She rolled to face Helena, who was giving her a look that seemed partly uncertain and partly content. Myka linked theirs hands with a light squeeze, “What is it?”

Helena shook her head quickly, “Nothing that needs to be discussed right this moment.”

Myka wondered if she _knew_ , wagered that she most likely did, risked saying out loud what she’d been thinking the entire flight home, “I never want us to go through something like this again.”

Helena sighed, something akin to relief racing through her eyes, before they stole back into a kind of passive determination, “It’s part of your job, Myka.”

“Yeah, I know, and I’m starting to wonder how my job might need to adjust. I’m not…I’m not saying leave the Warehouse, but Hel…there’s too much at stake. There _always_ has been, but this…this was a stark reminder that we’ve got a kid, a teenager that I really, really want to see grow up. A kid that I don’t want to leave at home where he has to worry and fret about my safety.”

Helena leaned forward and left a kiss where Myka’s forehead dipped and met the bridge of her nose, “As I said, things we don’t need to talk about tonight, my love. Eventually…once you’ve rested and healed and had some time, _yes_ , we will need to talk about all of this, but for now, for tonight? You need to sleep. Bloody hell, _I_ need to sleep.”

Myka chuckled softly, “Fair enough. For tonight, you win… _sleep_ wins.” Myka rolled onto her back, holding an arm out for Helena to curl into. Myka pressed a kiss to the top of Helena’s forehead, “I missed you…I missed you so damn much.”

Helena propped herself up on an elbow, the arm she had draped over Myka’s waist coming up to lay against Myka’s sternum, “Oh my love…I cannot express to you how much I have missed you.”

Myka placed her hand against Helena’s back, applying the smallest bit of pressure, but enough to encourage her to lean down and into a slow kiss, one Myka desperately wanted to let linger, though she knew her body would never be able to meet her desire. She sighed as they parted, _that_ would have to wait. She gave Helena a small smile, “I love you…”

“I love you too, darling.” Helena palmed Myka’s cheek lightly, swiping a thumb over the purple and blue of the bruise that shown even in the faint light of the closet, “That’s going to linger…”

“I know… _but_ our son told me it was _‘totally badass’_ so that has to count for something.”

Helena’s laughter was finally full, rich, _real_ , “That boy…”

Myka grinned, “Indeed.”

Helena sighed softly, leaning down for one last quick kiss, “Good night, my love.”

“G’night, Hel.”

Helena reclined back into the sure hold of Myka’s arm around her shoulders, reveling in the assurance of having her _there_ , of feeling Myka’s muscles weighted against her, in the sure grip she had around Myka’s waist. She took in what felt like the first real breath she’d taken in days, knowing that they would have things to talk about, knowing that Myka’s injuries were not necessarily light and she would absolutely need time to heal, knowing that without a doubt certain changes were most likely coming, but for now, for tonight, for these few hours, the rest of those things could wait.


End file.
